


Final Days

by give_me_arminute



Category: Hetalia: Axis Powers
Genre: But he's a Nazi, Dark, Fall of Nazi Germany, Gen, Germany is a racist, Historical, Implied GerIta - Freeform, Itay (mentioned), Rather Dark!Hetalia, Violence
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-06-01
Updated: 2014-06-01
Packaged: 2018-02-03 00:39:04
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,275
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1724777
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/give_me_arminute/pseuds/give_me_arminute
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Russia reaches Berlin during the final days of the Second World War to get revenge on Germany for what he did. Germany has gone nuts and is living in a bunker so Russia pays him a visit. Darktalia ensues.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Final Days

**Author's Note:**

> Germany is kinda racist in this fic so I warn anyone if they may be offended. This is my first fanfiction so be kind c: enjoy!

Berlin. March 1945.  
Russia’s POV  
Berlin was a city or rubble and broken promises. They promised a war to bring dignity and glory back to the German speaking peoples. They promised the war would be over by Christmas but instead dragged both sides into a new circle of hell lasting another 3 and a half years. Finally, I am here. All the way from the gates of Moscow, across Eastern Europe and now in the fascist heart of the Reich.  
I trudge through the ruins of Berlin on my search for the one who started everything, 4 long years ago. Germany. Bombers drone above me and deliver their deadly cargo all across the city. Shell fire rumbles in the distance but I pay it no attention. Pulling my scarf up over more of my face and move further along the street where the Fuhrerbunker is supposed to be. No building is unmolested from bullet holes and bomb blasts and bricks litter almost every corner of the street. Occasionally, a body joins the bricks in a bloody and pitiful heap. I come into the square where the Reich Chancellery is situated and the Fuhrerbunker lurks unassumingly ahead of me. The entrance has been blow apart by shellfire and the door has been torn off, inviting me inside. I point my PPSh-41 machine gun at the entrance to the bunker where my target survives, although just barely. Tentatively, I step inside with my gun poised on my shoulder and the barrel dead straight ahead of my face. I move quietly, slowly, ready for any assailant to burst out the shadows. But no one comes. No ambush, nothing but the steady drone of the ventilation system. It smells of wet paint and death in here but I am used to the stench of death. I’ve see my fair share of corpses on the way here. I move through the rest of the bunker on full alert like this until I reach the main chamber. That’s when I see him, squatting in a fetid shell hole by a cracked and burnt table.  
The roof has been entirely caved in and destroyed and the smell of petrol and decay hangs heavy like a mist in the still air. Shrapnel is still embedded in the walls around the blast zone and Germany is surrounded by a maelstrom of blood and bodies. I wonder how that villanous snake survived, probably by using a 'friend' to shield himself. Coward. I barely change in my stance and continue to move closer to Germany. He is a shadow of his former self. The great blitzkrieg is dead and the conquest of Western Europe is a long forgotten glory. The remaining shell of a country is occupied by erratically pushing pieces that resemble tanks and guns with a rusted and corroded Luger around on a cracked board vaguely resembling Berlin. You can almost see the cogs working in his head that dreamt up remarkable and impossible ways that the army could snatch victory from the jaws of defeat. A pitiful sight indeed, the destroyer of empires brought down to this husk.  
I relax somewhat and walk slowly towards Germany, kicking a piece of thin, scrap metal to get his attention. The shrill sound reverberates harshly around the room and Germany looks up, startled and dazed. In the split second before he acts, I see the face of the man who has ravaged half the world. He is surprisingly unshaven and dried blood sticks in his stubble from a gash on the side of his head. His once smooth, blonde hair is dirty and dishevelled and the proud uniform of the fascist Reich has been brought low, now torn, bloody and near unrecognisable. The eyes are the worst though. Where they were once piercing and blue, they are now grey and crazed, never focusing on one thing for long.  
Germany levels his Luger at my head but I’m much faster and I fire my PPSh, sending a bullet straight through the arm holding his pistol. He stays silent as the bullet makes contact and he just looks shocked, the Luger falling to his feet with a loud clang. I drop my gun and snatch up a discarded steel bar and charge towards him. A bullet in the skull is far too quick and clean for this piece of shit. I should kill him, slowly, intimately, seeing every little part of his face as I painstakingly draw life from his body, like poison from a wound. It’s what Germany deserves after all of the people he left bleeding and dying in the mud across every field in Europe. I take a swing at his head with the bar, forcing action from the target in front of me. He ducks away from the blow and is brought to life. His face becomes etched with hatred and he begins to howl abuse at me.  
‘Don’t you dare lay a hand on me you sub human Slav son of a bitch.’ He spits, ‘You’re a servant to my kind, you’re meant to subjugate and welcome me as a ruler’.  
I stay silent but get angrier, swinging the steel at his leg with all of my hate. The bar makes contact with his left knee making a sickening crack as bone shatters like glass. Germany screams like an animal and falls to the ground, clutching his leg.  
‘Servant! I am the Third Reich. I am destined to last a thousand years and bring the non-Aryan races to heel. You are a servant, not fi-‘  
I cut him off as I kick him across the face, breaking his nose with a wet crunch. I lean over his body and pin him to the ground. Using a piece of sharpened rebar as a stake, I stab him through the shoulder so he stays stuck the floor. The sudden pain brings him back from the daze following my kick and Germany screams out again. I bring my bloodied hands towards his face and wrap them tight around his throat, cutting off his air and the screams.  
‘My turn to talk now.’ I say, calmly. ‘I’ve had to watch everything that has happened to my people and my country since you stormed across Europe. I watched as Leningrad starved and children died in their hundreds at the hands of your men. I watched as innocent people were burned and bombed in the streets of Stalingrad. I watched as my comrades and friends were killed like cattle by Germans at Kursk. I've seen what you've done to Poland, to Ukraine, to Belarus. I watched. I waited. I knew I would have my vengeance and here it is. The blood of millions of Nazis lay at my back and I want you to picture all of the faces that you have sent to hell as I crush your throat and watch you die. I want you to know one thing before your eyes go black and that pitiful life of yours is removed from you shattered body’  
Germany is spluttering and clawing at my hands like a beast. His legs trash and kick as he fights to break free. I force the rebar in further and tighten my grip. I lean down to his ear and whisper in a soft, calm voice. 

‘Italy screamed for you as I cut his throat’

Germany gives up fighting as soon as the words leave my lips. His eyes go wide and mouth opens for a single, painful gasp just as he falls entirely still. He tumbles into death. I stand up and walk away, silently, satisfied that my vengeance is complete.

**Author's Note:**

> If you want to know more about the locations and events that I've mentioned, here are some handy links.  
> http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/F%C3%BChrerbunker  
> http://www.historynet.com/battle-of-kursk-germanys-lost-victory-in-world-war-ii.htm  
> http://militaryhistory.about.com/od/worldwarii/p/World-War-Ii-Battle-Of-Stalingrad.htm  
> http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Siege_of_Leningrad  
> http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/PPSh-41  
> http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Luger_pistol


End file.
